The Infinite Balm of Small Movements
by Lavender and Hay
Summary: The night of a convoy leaves Roland shattered, and unsure where to turn. Fortunately, there is no need so him to turn anywhere. Roland/Grace.
1. Chapter 1

It was all over. At last. He hadn't known how much more he could stand, how much any of them could. Everyone was exhausted, most of them were covered in blood. As best they could, the patients had been tended to and cleansed, and in exchange, it seemed, the hospital staff had been doused in blood. He shuddered a little, shivered in the cold of the dark as he made his way away from the ward and through the night towards his office. It was distasteful to him to think about; him, a surgeon. It hadn't permeated his surgeon's coat, but still, he wanted rid of this uniform, he wanted to feel clean.

He was out of the ward and everything he had suppressed in order to do his job seemed to be welling to the surface. He didn't know what time it was, or if it was nearly morning. For the first time that night, he seemed to reside wholly with himself, but his self was almost lost in fatigue and grief. Treading the path of the wooden boards to his office was the only thing keeping him on course.

But when his office came into view, he saw, through the gap under the blind, that there was a light on inside there. He frowned. And then his frown faded. There was only one person who would presume to let themselves in. The light was certainly on inside that room. His pace quickened and he entered swiftly.

It was.

It was her. Worn, tired, like him. Grace stood there, waiting for him, without her apron, without, to his surprise, her headdress.

She saw the path his eyes followed, saw him notice its absence.

"It became unhygienic when I was assisting Captain Gillan," she told him.

He nodded gently. She did not have to say, it had been covered in blood too.

"I thought you might like some tea," she handed him a steaming mug, "And," she hesitated for the briefest of seconds, "Not to be alone."

He looked at her. Her fair hair was shining in the light from the lamp. Her head was bowed.

"I wasn't sure," she added quietly, "I wanted not to be alone," she admitted.

His eyes were fixed upon her. She looked exhausted, yet still somehow-… so alive. She was beautiful, but then she always was to him. She was the spaces between the hour and the hour, she was there in every moment in this awful place that wasn't inundated with suffering, she pushed the suffering away from him and told it not to disturb them. He let out a low sigh. Her eyes flickered further downwards.

"I should go," she told him, "Let you sleep. I shouldn't have bothered you."

"No, Grace, don't go."

Instinctively, he reached out, arrested her wrist, prevented her from leaving. She stop abruptly, her gaze flitting up to him. At last, he thought. She looked alarmed, though.

"Don't go," he asked her again, "I don't want you to go. I want you here."

There was a moment of silence.

"Do you?" she asked him. Her voice was fragile. Her eyelids seemed to flicker under the intensity of the look they exchanged, but a moment later she seemed to swallow, her jaw set more firmly. She was uncertain but he knew she was not frightened.

"Yes," he answered quietly. Another pause. Again, "I want you here."

Her head tipped back a little way but they were standing so close together that her eyes still lingered on his face. She was looking at his lips. He was still holding on to her lower arm.

His breath left him in another uneven gasp.

"Forgive me," he asked her softly.

"What for?" she asked him equally quietly. When he did not speak; "Roland, what is it? What are you thinking?"

She was reaching out for him, but almost as if she did not know what to do with her hands; the one that he was not holding onto ghosted across his forehead before cupping his cheek. Blinking, he looked up at her.

"I want you-… now," he told her, "I think-… I must have you."

He felt her breath dance across his upper lip as she let out a sigh too now. He had been exhausted, but now he was hyper-aware of every small movement she made as he tried to gage her reaction.

He could no longer look at her face, looked down at the tips of her fingers which were still touching his cheekbone.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his lips ghosting against her hand, kissing her palm, "I shouldn't have-…"

"Don't be sorry," she told him suddenly, her voice was at once firm where before she had been uncertain, "That's what I wanted you to say. I wanted to hear that you want me. I want to-… feel it."

He looked up. Their eyes met. His hand flitted out to her waist and she caught it, clasping it to rest against her dress. Settling it there, her hand left his almost tentatively and rested on his shoulder. Her fingers half-curled into a loose fist.

She was looking at his eyes, searching his face.

"Roland. Please don't be afraid of what you want. Or ashamed, or sorry or-…"

She was looking at his lips. She let out a quiet sigh as their lips touched.

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	2. Chapter 2

**I'm favouring the short chapter at the moment (it's a bit mad in Oxford at the moment and I'd quite like to sleep). Thank you so much for your kind reviews.**

He kissed her as gently as he could, not wanting to frighten her away. It was her who pressed closer to him, deepening the kiss. She left him short of breath. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, and her face lingered close to his.

"I'm not ashamed of what I want, Grace," he told her softly, "You are all I want."

He saw her eyes sparkling, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards in a smile.

"I love you," he murmured softly, "I should have found a better time to tell you."

She shook her head gently.

"There hasn't been a time when I needed to hear you say that than I am now," she told him quietly, leaning a little closer towards him, her mouth close to his, "I love you too," she replied.

His hand wound gently into her uncovered hair, making it fall loose as they kissed again. His hands stroked her back gently.

"Stay with me?" he asked her quietly.

He felt her nod beside his face. Their hands seemed to fall together, and their fingers entwined. He tugged her softly into his bedroom, closing the door behind them both.

He came back to her, stood before her. Raised his thumb to her face and traced the line of her cheekbone. Her hand rested gently over his, stroking his skin gently.

"We should sleep," he told her softly.

"I know," she replied, "But I'm damned if we do after what you've just said to me."

He smiled at her. Her hands slipped to his neck. She was unbuttoning his jacket, she was loosening his tie.

His chest rose and fell heavily. She was concentrating on her task, but her eyes flitted upwards as she divested him of the jacket and let the tie slip to the floor. She caught the intensity of his gaze as he watched her. She leant in and kissed him slowly. His arms wrapped around her waist, and it was good to feel her body against his without the barrier of his jacket. How was this happening? How was this happening so quickly? His mind could hardly compute it; she loved him. She _loved_ him. She was caressing him tenderly, she was slowly removing his clothes- his shirt was gone too now- she was looking at him, taking him in, she was making love to him with her eyes.

His breath was uneven.

"Grace-… May I take your dress off?"

"Of course," she replied.

He knew his fingers were trembling as he handled the buttons. He tried not think about it. Thankfully, he unclasped the belt at her waist with a little more control. He pushed the cloth from her shoulders. His hand traced inside the hollow of her collarbone as he did so.

"Oh Grace-…"

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	3. Chapter 3

**Short chapters are in vogue and so is sleep and this seems to be taking ages to write. I'm sorry.**

Her pale bare skin shone in the light of the oil lamp at his bedside. Her blue dress fell away. She was all white cotton, lace, silk, skin. He ran his hands up her bare arms, relishing the feel of her. Her eyes roamed his chest again, flitting up to meet his. Part of him still expected her to turn and run. _She hasn't got her dress on_, he reminded himself, _she wouldn't run away that quickly_. But that wasn't the point. He couldn't believe she wanted-…

But she was reaching for him again, pulling him towards her, forcefully. She was gentle by nature, she couldn't help it, but behind that he felt the strength, the determination with which she drew him in. They kissed slowly. Her dress was on the floor.

He had to be sure.

"Are you certain this is what you want?" he asked her quietly, leaning back just enough to convince himself that he could think straight.

"Do I seem in any way uncertain?" she asked in reply.

He smiled.

"No," he conceded.

He leant back towards her lips, but she withdrew ever so slightly. He conceded her this move, thinking that he never should have broken her kiss at all. She was still for a second, her eyes following the line of his face. Again her eyes settled on his lips.

"Do you want me?" she asked him, barely above a whisper.

"You know I do," he replied softly, his fingers stroking up and down her back.

Her head tilted just a little to the right.

"Then show me, please," she asked him, quite calmly, but then, a moment later, slightly less easily, "Because I'm finding it hard to believe this is happening."

"Oh Grace-…" he murmured, "I would have to be out of my mind not to want you."

His hands moved lower, bypassing her hips, down to her bottom. He picked her up, heard her gasp in surprise and felt her arms clasp around his neck, holding onto him.

He carried her towards his bed, her in her underwear and him in his trousers. Lying her down gently, he knelt between her parted legs. She was looking up at him, surprise and delight written over her face. Placing his hands on the mattress beside her shoulders he bore down over her, not breaking eye contact, teasing her with kisses, making her lean up off the bed to try to capture his mouth. And then he moved one of his hands to her breast, tracing it over her corset. She moaned softly, turning her head to the side again, her eyes closing. Applying himself as best he could to unfastening her corset, he was suitably pleased when it came apart fairly easily and her body was revealed to him.

"Grace-…" his breath left him in a sharp his of desire, he caressed her name with his mouth.

His hand wandered down over her ribs as his mouth moved over the top of her breast.

"Do you believe it now?" he asked her, "Do you know how much I want you?"

"Yes," she moaned.

He traced his hand in gentle circles, widening and tightening, but all the time moving lower, lower.

Her hips canted up from the bed.

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	4. Chapter 4

He touched her between her legs. Her mouth fell open in a gasp. The warmth of her, his fingers pushed against her inside her underwear. He let out a quiet sigh.

"You feel so good," he murmured to her.

Her lips were moving frantically as he circled his fingers gently against her sensitive flesh. He pressed his own lips to them, kissing her softly.

"Roland," she panted quietly, "I need you now."

He could feel how wet she was beneath his fingers, he knew she was ready for him. Momentarily, he rested his forehead against hers, still moving his fingers over her. He could feel her ragged breathing against his own mouth. His other hand cupped her face tenderly.

"I love you, you know," he told her softly.

"I know," she replied, a strain of frustration audible in her voice, "And I love you. Now make love to me, please, Roland."

It had barely even occurred to him, as yet, they had not even _made love_, not really. The realisation knocked him a little. The way they had looked at each other, the way they had touched each other had been more intimate than anything he had felt in his life.

To hear her plead with him like this-… He could not think of leaving unrequited.

He gathered her in his arms, kissing her soundly. He nudged her thighs apart with one of his own. She was lying beneath his again, looking up at him with unguarded want in her eyes. Running his hands down her sides, he slipped them both under the waistband of her underwear and pushed them down her legs and off. Standing up for a second, he divested himself of his trousers and underpants as quickly as he could. He stood there for a second gazing on her naked form, her perfect, perfect body for a moment. And then she reached out her arms, beckoning him back to her, and he returned, settling himself over her and between her legs.

"I'm so in love with you," he murmured.

Her hand was travelling down over his back, cupping his bottom, slipping between their bodies, holding him in her hand. He gave a low his of desire, which turned into a groan as he felt her guide him towards her entrance and raise her hips so that he could slide into her.

She let out a long shuddering breath. She leveraged herself with her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to him so that she could caress his lips with hers, slowly and sensually.

"And I'm in love with you," she told him, her voice hoarse with lust.

"Oh Grace, my darling-…" he murmured softly, "Grace-…"

"It's alright," she murmured, referring to his stillness, "Take what you need, my love."

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	5. Chapter 5

He moved gently inside her. Her head had fallen back and she was moaning softly, rocking her hips up to meet his.

She was catastrophically beautiful. He couldn't believe that he was with her like this, that he was touching her, he was _inside _her. He couldn't believe he had been able to make himself wait for this long.

He mouthed kisses all over her forehead as they moved together.

"Oh my darling-… I love you. I love you."

She moaned in response, gasping words of love in reply. Moving one of his hands between their bodies, he managed to caress her breast with his thumb and she let out a quiet wail. He swallowed it on his own lips, remembering the need to be quiet but almost hating himself for it, wanting to hear her.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, cradling him, pulling him in, so tight and so high that he could feel her heels digging into his bottom. It was wonderful. Gods, it was wonderful. He couldn't have felt closer to her, more together than they were as they moved. This was delicious. The feel of their bodies together. He found himself wondering what she would taste like, if she would let him-… He could hear himself breathing heavily, he needed to hold on, to wait for her but his restrain was wearing away with every cant of her hips.

But she was clutching onto him, her hand was tightening on his shoulder, her hips rolled against his as she arched her back with release. He kissed her soundly, muffling her cry. He thrust into her twice more and then he came as well, spilling inside her, groaning into the crook of her neck.

Nothing had ever been like this before. He hadn't known it could be like this. As soon as he could lift his head, he looked up at her face, and saw her eyes shining. He caressed her face with his hand.

"Are you alright?" he asked her in a low voice, "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she replied, "You were-… That was perfect, Roland."

He smiled.

"Thank you so much for this, Grace," he murmured, kissing her forehead.

"You don't have to thank me," she replied, "I love you."

He kissed her lips.

They broke apart, moved to lie side by side in his little bed.

"Nothing is ever going to be the same after this," she murmured.

"Do you want it to be?" he asked.

"No," she replied firmly, "I don't."

**End.**

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